


Astride

by BananaChef



Series: Missed Smutportunities [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 3: A Storm of Swords, F/M, Frottage, Outdoor Sex, Woman on Top, aka jc who??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28046454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaChef/pseuds/BananaChef
Summary: The Kingslayer opened his mouth to say something more, but Brienne gripped his jaw even tighter with one hand and jerked his whole head back, half-submerging it in the river. In doing so, she moved down his body to better lean over him, every inch a warrior.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Missed Smutportunities [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840402
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	Astride

_“Yield!”_ Brienne commanded again as she scrabbled for her dagger in his hand. She grasped it and flung it behind her, far out of either of their reaches. She let the Kingslayer up for air and he spit out river water in her face, gasping for breath as his chest heaved. She dunked him under again, then brought him up. _“Yield, or I’ll drown you!”_

“And break your oath?” he spat. “Like me?” Those words stopped Brienne for a moment, although her grip on his jaw never faltered.

“Yield, and we can be on our way,” she settled for, pale hair sticking to her neck and cheeks along with a thin sheen of sweat.

Brienne watched the gears turn in the Kingslayer’s mind as she waited for his answer. And finally, a resigned, “I yield,” came from his lips.

The Kingslayer opened his mouth to say something more, but Brienne gripped his jaw even tighter with one hand and jerked his whole head back, half-submerging it in the river. In doing so, she moved down his body to better lean over him, every inch a warrior.

“Silence, Kingslayer,” she all but growled, looking into his green eyes with an intensity that somehow reminded him of fire.

They both felt it at the same time. She was sitting astride him, thighs bracketing his hips. Brienne’s cheeks flamed red, but Jaime was gazing at her with uninhibited strength. She shifted to get out of the mud, but that made their predicament worse. His cock twitched underneath her and her traitorous body _responded,_ making Brienne aware of every place where Jaime was touching her.

Firming her lips into a line, she attempted to stand up, but succeeded only in rocking against his hardening length, her feet stuck in the mud. Jaime groaned, and Brienne felt the reverberations of it from her fingers to her—

No, not now, not this feeling for this man at this moment... Perhaps stupidly, she attempted to jerk away from him several times in quick succession, but her boots were firmly stuck in the mud at the bank of the river, now, along with her feet inside of them. She stopped, breathing heavily, painfully aware of the Kingslayer’s erection.

 _Because of me._ The thought shook Brienne to her foundation—or, more accurately, to where her body was outrageously beseeching her to take her pleasure from the Kingslayer then and there. By then, his eyes were mostly black, their cat-green color mere rims in the face of his arousal.

Brienne could feel her cheeks flushing an ungodly color as his throat moved beneath her hand as he swallowed. It was strange, the feel of his skin against her hand. She felt powerful sitting astride the Kingslayer, one hand on his throat, the other pinning his manacled hands to his chest. She also felt out of control, her body demanding things she didn’t know how to ask for, let alone consider with a man such as th—

He bucked his hips against hers and she gasped, rolling her hips against his in a bid to get his own under control. “Wench,” he rasped, and the words went straight from her hand to her sex. She could _feel_ herself getting wet, but she was powerless to stop her body from getting the best of her logic.

The only thing Brienne could think to say was, “My name is Brienne,” but it sounded breathy and needy, wholly unlike how she was normally.

“And my name is Jaime, but neither of us acquiesces to using our true names, do we?” He gazed up at Brienne and grasped her hand in his own on his chest. “You can _feel_ what you’re doing to me, Brienne.” The smallest of shivers worked down her spine at the use of her name. Jaime opened his mouth to speak again but perhaps thought better of his words and swallowed heavily, searching her eyes, which were slightly widened.

She gave in to her desires somewhat, letting her legs relax, and she sighed as she shifted on top of him. “Please,” he whispered brokenly, and the tales of the Kingslayer taking women at his pleasure seemed so _wrong._ This could not be the same man before her. “I can feel you, Brienne,” Jaime said, breaking into her thoughts. _Damn him to the seven hells._ Brienne shivered again at the way her name sounded and the way it felt against her hand, still holding his jaw. “I know you want me—want this.”

 _This_ being illustrated by another buck of his hips, but gentler this time. A small smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as she pressed him down again, the slide of their trousers against each other a sensual feeling. Brienne let out a shuddering sigh and trailed her hand from his throat and jaw to his shoulder.

“Do you make a habit of seducing maidens, Kingslayer?” His grip on her right hand tightened almost painfully before he seemed to realize what he was doing and let go, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in a startling act of tenderness.

Brienne looked back into his eyes. “I do not. Those rumors are baseless.” His green gaze seemed to implore her to believe him, and, strangely, she did. He was annoying and handsome and a skilled fighter and a kingslayer, but he was no liar, not in this.

He moved his hips against hers again, and they soon found a rhythm of sorts. Part of Brienne could not believe that she was truly partaking in frottage in the middle of the Riverlands, on the bank of a river, with the Kingslayer—her _prisoner_ —but... _Mother have mercy,_ she thought as she stifled a whine trying to work its way out of her mouth. _This is no more than a detour. I can still fulfill my vow to Lady Catelyn._

A detour that slid a hand out of her grip to slip inside her trousers and touch her, apparently. _“Oh,”_ Brienne gasped, fisting his ragged shirt in her hands. _“Oh...”_ The Kingslayer’s touches were fumbling but the pads of his fingers were rough with calluses from years of swordfighting, and pressed on her nub firmly with every touch managed.

Brienne’s climax took her by surprise and she bit down on her hand to silence the scream that had wanted to burst forth from her throat at the feeling. Her back arched as her chest heaved, and she felt the tremors inside her for many seconds afterward, somehow spurred on by the feeling of the Kingslayer reaching his climax as well. He groaned, uninhibited, hands moving to grip her hips as his own jerked up. They stared at each other for a moment, neither saying anything.

And then laughter rang out around them.


End file.
